


Beautiful

by TheAwkwardPinCushion



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Warden!Alistair, alistair is a cutie patootie, this is so sweet it gave me cavities
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 23:51:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAwkwardPinCushion/pseuds/TheAwkwardPinCushion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alistair's thoughts through the time he spends with Tabris, noticing the little things that make her beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beautiful

 There were so many times that Alistair looked over to his elven companion, and thought about how beautiful she was.

It was when she danced with her daggers and glided through the mess and gore of battle that she was most beautiful.

It when she focused and let herself concentrate on the damage she did, and the way her blades and body worked together like clockwork – she was one with her weapons. They were an extension of her passion to make the world just a little more _right._

It was when she was covered in blood and dirt and the way it cracked when she laughed on the walk back to camp. It was the way her voice rang out like a song against the stillness of the air around them.

It was when she took off her armor, leaving herself in only cotton that reminded Alistair how small she really was – and how the bared such a burden on her thin shoulders.

It was when she thought no one saw, and winced when she rubbed the soreness out of her tired muscles. She never complained – not even once. She didn't want to burden the group with her problems.

It was when she finally allowed herself to open up – she was terrified of humans, especially the men, after what happened to her. He let her ease into the conversation, never initiating, only participating when she approached him.

It was when she sat in front of the fire and looked into it like it held the answers to all her problems, from the Blight to the way a voice can send her back to Denerim when so many horrible things happened to her. He doesn't dare touch her then.

It was when he _did_ touch her, all hands and nervousness. The way she appreciated his timidness – asking before he did anything to be sure she was okay. The way she kissed him, lightly at first but then suddenly they're in her tent and he doesn't know where his armor went.

 _It's all the time,_ he realized. _She is beautiful all the time._ He watched her train the new Wardens in the ways of stealth and assassination. Her hair disheveled and a crooked smile on her beautifully aging face. He smiled to himself. _I am a lucky man._

**Author's Note:**

> I am the fucking queen of horribly-written fluff. I wrote this at 2 AM while very drunk and I'm surprised at how okay it turned out.


End file.
